Il Bacio Della Morte
by moustachelove
Summary: Ex-Detective Lovino Vargas is solving what may be his final case, if it doesn't kill him first. Only it's not really a case. It's revenge. Lots of past relationships, mentions of substance abuse, extenstive swearing, and a bunch of plot twists. Mystery AU.
1. Introduction

Throughout your lifetime, a single phrase is usually heard from many people, many times.

_I love you. Te amo. Ti amo. Je t'aime. Ich liebe dich._

Another single phrase usually follows.

_I'm sorry. Lo siento. Mi dispiace. __Je suis désolé._ _Entschuldigung._

That is the way life works. Your heart is broken, you become either happy or depressed, and over time, you're supposed to get over it. Some people never do.

I had been in prison for 148 months for a crime that to this day was never truly proved whether I had committed or not. A crime that I firmly believe I was framed for, and a crime that was done by the one person I should have never trusted. After all, you should never trust anyone who's slaphappy all the goddamn time.

I was young and naïve, looking for something I didn't need and he took advantage of it. Took advantage of me. I did things that I'd never imagined doing, things that were against every single thing I believed in. I did whatever he asked me to do, because even if I knew a lot better, I could never deny him anything. He knew my secrets like the back of his hand. One slip-up and my life was over.

I'm a free man today. I'm standing in front of my home for the past 12 years, the tiniest hint of a smile on my face, as I wait for the only person I can trust in this shithole of a town, this shithole of a world. She knows everything about me, and she knows exactly what I want.

This isn't her first time picking me up from here, and it won't be the last.

I am Detective Lovino Vargas, and my next case isn't a case.

It's murder.


	2. Cafe Heaven

v

"I hate you."

The words don't sting me anymore. I have a general numbness to any type of feeling other than shock. Besides, coming from the angel that is Emmalina van Bommel, I know there's more irritation in it more than anything else.

Emma has been my best friend since we were children. We walked to school together, we supported each other for the most part, and she was the first person I liked in a "more-than-friends" way. She's kept me grounded and most of all, she's the one constant in my life full of changes.

"I missed you," I admit as she drives recklessly down the road. I don't dare comment on that, though, since I was the one that taught her to drive. "It's cold in there. No one gives hugs and makes waffles."

She rolls her bright green eyes. "Don't expect to slack at my house, Lovino, Lars still drops by from time to time. Hell, he'll probably kill me for letting you stay with me. I got so much shit for just knowing you during the trial—"

"You know I didn't kill her. Him. Them."

Emma doesn't meet my eyes. "Honestly, I don't."

It takes all of my will not to snap at her. I take a deep breath, like my old therapist used to make me do. It brings back memories I'd rather not think about. By the time I actually calm down, the car is parked, the engine isn't running, and Emma is looking at me with tired eyes. She's two years older than me and she looks nearly forty. I hate that I put her through so much.

I look away from her and nearly jump in surprise at our location.

"Emma, I can't—"

"We're having brunch here," She says, and it sounds more like a question than an order. "You need to get over these bridges if you want to…"

She doesn't finish, and she doesn't need to. She's completely right, and I feel ashamed.

We get out of her car and I pull my jacket tight. 12 years ago it was pretty big, but it fits snugly now. I try to ignore the bell as we enter the nearly deserted café, and as I sit, I can still feel the stares from the spare people around me. They know who I am, no doubt about it. They all probably think I'm scum. A man supposedly working for the people, who went crazy and killed an innocent couple, sitting in the very place that one of his victims had cleaned, as this was her shop. The headlines are still fresh in my head, and I quickly blink them away.

Emma's hair bounced a little as she slides into the booth, sitting in front of me. There are two cups of coffee, and she pushes one towards me as she drinks from the other. The place is eerily quiet, and the dreary weather outside doesn't make much of a celebration for my release either.

"Lovino."

I'm the motions to pulling out one of my cigarettes I had her stash in one of my pockets. "What?"

She seems uneasy. "What happened?"

I sigh, releasing the carton of smokes and reaching for my drink instead. "This isn't the time or the place for that story. We are going by my schedule, and according to that, you won't hear that story until he's dead, and we're talking on that stupid phone line behind prison walls again."

She frowns. "Lovino, that's not funny."

"I was serious."

A pregnant pause.

"If you are staying in my house," Emma starts, placing her cup gently on the table and staring firmly at me. "You will answer every question I ask of you. You will do every chore I order you to do. You will be kind and respectful to me and my guests, and god fucking dammit, you'll do it without any sass! Do you understand that?"

If we didn't have everyone's attention before, we have it now. I have to blink a few times and hold back a laugh, a sly smile sneaking out. "I didn't realize how much I missed that assertiveness of yours. It's still pretty hot."

She kicks me, and I laugh.

The rest of our time at the café is just banter between the two of us, ignoring the reporters outside snapping pictures and having to sneak out the back just to not be mobbed. It's something I wish wouldn't need to happen, but I deserve it. Just another consequence, I suppose.

_"How could you sit and laugh in there? You killed the owners!"_

_"Such a liar! A cheater of the law and the city!"_

The words don't sting anymore, and I've honestly been called worse way before any of this happened. Bella just sighs and makes her way home, running a few lights and taking the long way there so the press gets off her tail. I promise to pay off the tickets, but she just waves her hand.

The house looks exactly how I remember it, a faint yellow paint on the outside and nearly dead flowers littering the lawn. If Lars really did stop by every so often, he'd flip his shit at how bad the house looked. He always did when we were younger.

I'm standing on the porch now, finally getting a chance to smoke. It feels almost foreign, yet it makes me feel a sense of stability. I can see the charred remains of my old home from here, remembering that day perfectly.

_"You failed another test? God, you little shit! You're not good for nothing!"_

_I was only seven at the time, and my father was screaming at me, a bottle of wine in one hand, and a cigar hanging in his mouth. We had never been on good terms, not since he got that perfect daughter he always longed for. _

_I only rolled my eyes and started to walked off, not expecting the blow to the stomach, knocking me off my feet and onto the floor and sliding into the table. I winced as the vase fell over, barely missing me as the shards swam in the water, only making that bastard angrier. _

_My mother jumped in then, hearing the crash and putting two and two together as I held back tears. Dio, I was such a little bitch back then. It's not like she helped any, standing in between us and frozen, unsure what to do._

_"Che cosa guardi? Move out of the damn way, can't you see I'm handling something?"_

_She got shoved into the island, protectively covering her protruding stomach. That's right; I had a little brother on the way, too. His name was going to be Sebastiano. Alice was so excited about him. A few more days and he would've made it into the world._

_He was about to start adding to the bruises I already had before something exploded near the back of the house, all of us screaming in terror. There was smoke everywhere, and over it all you could hear Alice yelling for help, before it suddenly stopped. Of course that idiot went back there looking for her. I had to drag my mother out by myself as she coughed violently, and I swear there was blood._

_We'd just gotten to the sidewalk when there was a second explosion, the house whole up in flames. Mamma was crying now, and once again I was useless. I couldn't calm her down, so I ran next door begging our neighbor to call 911. The ambulances and fire trucks came quickly, but not quickly enough. My father never made it out, and I never saw Alice after that, even though they said they never found her body._

_Sebastiano died shortly after being born, and my mother committed suicide because she blamed herself, and for the very first time, I was truly alone, and it was the damn scariest thing I've ever went through._

_And that's when I met him._

I take a deep breath, allowing myself to return the present and making myself forget that I even thought about that, stomping out my smoke and going inside. I can already smell waffles.

The interior of the house is a lot of red and yellow and white, and it's an organized mess that I'm sure Emmalina enjoys living in. She has some old CD blasting through the house that makes me roll my eyes as I recognize the familiar lyrics. As if she didn't look old enough.

I find my way to the guestroom, which hasn't changed a bit in the years I've been gone, besides my clothes being scattered about, probably in a fit by Lars, and a few notes laying on the dresser. I decided to clean up the room before looking at the notes, because I'd rather put them off as long as possible. I clean extremely slowly, but no longer than an hour passes.

The first note is from Lars.

_Get out._

I ball it up and throw it in the trash.

The second note is from Matthew Williams.

_I don't know if you'll remember me by the time you read this, but I want to say that I don't believe that you were fairly convicted. I know who you are looking for and I know that I'm probably not your first resort for help, but if you ever do realize that I do consider us friends, reciprocated or not, then give me a call. Em has my number._

I push that one to the side. He might be of some help later.

The last one doesn't have a name on it.

_I'm not done with you, amigo._

This one I flush down the toilet. I don't have the patience or time to play anymore games with him. I only have one goal in life, and that is to clear my name for this crime, and get it written down for something I actually committed. I'd prefer not having to commit a crime whatsoever, but he's as slippery as a fucking snake, and just like last time, he'll slip right out of the city, no whereabouts or trail. I'm not letting that happen again.

"Come eat, Vino!"

The nickname is old, and as much as I want to protest against it, it feels nice to hear. So I comply and meet her in the dining room, warm waffles awaiting me like it's my final meal. It may as well be. I wonder what kind of syrup she used, or what the recipe is, but she'll never tell me. Not until she's dead or I'm dead.

Lunch is quiet, and I can tell she's still waiting to hear my side of that night, but the fact that he's probably watching me at this very moment is unnerving. I know Emma would've never put that note with the others. It wouldn't make sense of her to trust him all of a sudden, as she never really trusted him the beginning. He would've either snuck in himself or had someone else sneak in for him, most likely the latter.

I'm washing the dishes with Emma glaring at me from the entrance of the kitchen when the doorbell rings. The look of surprise on her face shows that she wasn't expecting anyone.

"Probably Lars," She shrugged, going to the door. I follow not too far behind, even when she waves me away.

The person at the door is not Lars.

The person at the door stands five feet, six inches, in black stiletto heels, black jeans, a flowing red halter top, paired with a black biker style jacket. She has piercing blue eyes, wavy brown hair a ways past her shoulders, and a hint of a grin on her face. Emma is in shock, and I only return the grin.

"Nice to see you again, Milena."

."


End file.
